It’s three minutes to 5 on Wednesday evening. There’s a pork shoulder in the oven, a fresh pee spot on our bedroom floor, a smoke detector going off, and a delicious bit of red wine sitting next to me in a juice glass from Goodwill.

The smoke detector is just angry about the pork shoulder getting a massage when all it has gotten of late is a fresh battery. I’ve got the range blower going and some windows open on this cold evening. Still, the life-saving device keeps going peep like a precocious child. Either that, or it’s sending S.O.S. signals out in hopes of a more appreciative family.

The pee spot on our carpet is a result of Elliot going out of bounds for the second time today. Earlier we had lunch at the park. He rode his bicycle, played with another little boy, and didn’t fall into a single tantrum. When it was time to leave, he climbed up on the jungle gym. I made a little small talk with a father who had his back to Elliot. Next thing I know there is a more impressive arch than the one in St. Louis. It hits the wood chips about four feet behind the guy in front of me. A mother giggles as she pushes her daughter on the merry-go-round, and Elliot has the cold stare of Jean Reno in “The Professional.”

This afternoon, Elliot finds me and tells me that he’s gone but not in the potty. I get him to show me the place, and it doesn’t take a CSI agent to see how much he enjoyed himself. A boy who has to go for the sake of going points and shoots. Elliot had just watched “Madagascar,” and the spray radius indicates he was still dancing to that song “I Like to Move It.” You know what I’m saying; there was a lot of flair, like he had channeled Elvis.

The other thing cooking around here is that we’ve started Elliot in karate. We are trying to get him to focus, learn to mind us, and get some exercise with other kids. I was not expecting him to be perfect or anything, but I find it quite difficult to watch his class.

You see, he is literally all over the room while they are trying to teach the four or five kids in there with him. Their ages are different, so naturally he doesn’t have the focus of older kids. He’s everywhere, though, and the two student teachers are so patient with them. You know what the real cause of my anxiety is, right? It’s me.

I feel like because I am watching the class, they might be waiting for me to control my kid. Like when he was invading this nice little girl’s space. We met her and her parents at a birthday party once, and now our son’s the Johnny Lawrence to her Karate Kid. He’s not that bad, but he invades her space. She confidently gives him a “wax off” hand gesture, and I get off the bench to tell him to knock it off.

Elliot’s teacher tells me it’s cool. Don’t worry. My husband tells me not to watch the class. What I’m trying is practicing commands they give in class at home during the day. They make sitting Indian-style sound awesome by saying, “Lock it up.” The first time I tried it, he said no. After a few times, he was still saying no but crossing his legs. I told the teacher I don’t want to be that nervous or over-eager parent who can’t watch without freaking out — and I really don’t. So, I’m going to have to embrace this 30-minute loss of control and admit that you can’t lose what you never had in the first place.

Finally, the big social aspect is Elliot’s first real play date at the house. Twin boys and their mom are coming over on Friday. I scheduled it at the end of the week, so that I could spend four days getting the house ready. “Ready” is kind of amusing, because in June I emptied two bookshelves of their contents and put them in boxes on the dining room table. They are still there. We never redid the room where I was going to reinstall the books, so now I’m going to have to sound convincing when I say we gather to do charcoal drawings from this massive still life.

Christine Lucas writes about being a first-time mom and adventures with baby. Contact Christine at christineslucas@yahoo.com.